


Moo-ve Over, I Wanna Play

by Merrianna, samwise_baggins



Series: Islinne Weyr [10]
Category: CSI: Miami, CSI: NY, Criminal Minds (US TV), Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, sexual innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26152387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merrianna/pseuds/Merrianna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwise_baggins/pseuds/samwise_baggins
Summary: Weyrlings can learn a lot when breaking a minor rule.   3391.03.07
Series: Islinne Weyr [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898998
Kudos: 3





	Moo-ve Over, I Wanna Play

**Author's Note:**

> Setting: AU 10th pass: Telgar Weyr

Telgar Weyr: Weyrling Area: 3391.03.07 (March 4, 1991)

Having been given the rest of the time from dinner until bed for personal relaxation, T'mon was quietly reviewing his dragon healing lessons. He occasionally reached over and stroked his sleeping bronze, Speedeth. Lethargy was starting to set in, his too-long dark curls falling over half-closed brown eyes. A peaceful night was all too rare in the busy weyrling barracks.

Suddenly, his solitude was interrupted by the very noticeable entrance of T'mas, his twin brother, also a weyrling in his class. The arrogant young bronzerider blatantly strode up to the young man he looked so much like and prodded him with a foot to the hip. "Get up. You're coming with us."

"Us? Who're us? And where are we going?" T'mon wasn't annoyed at his brother's high-handedness; he was intrigued. After all, the bronzerider was acting peculiar, and the more time T'mon spent with him the better the chance was of figuring out his motives. Normally, the quieter, more studious T'mon avoided his obnoxious and often volatile brother like a plague.

" _'We'_ means _'us'_." J'soh strode into the room, grinning, flipping his light blond hair out of dancing blue-green eyes.

This was another bronzerider from their weyrling class, but he was followed by Kristen, a very rare female brownrider from a far older class, and T'mon briefly wondered if there was some hitherto unknown initiation the older riders put the new ones through. He looked over the fairly pretty older weyrling then turned his attention back to his own clutchmates. T'mon stood as he asked, "Where?"

Lizbet, a greenrider from the almost graduating weyrling class and cousin to T'mon and T'mas, peeked in. Her face was marked with various scars, some from a spit-canine incident when she was nine turns old, but most scars were from a more recent accident. The accident, when she was training with agenothree tanks in weyrling drills, had in fact left her with horribly disfiguring scars down the left side of her face. She didn't even use her long black curls to cover the scars surrounding her miraculously intact brown eye. The young woman seemed to feel no pain after all these months, and she was even one of the most relaxed weyrlings around. "We're going to the weyrling classroom since evening classes were cancelled tonight."

T'mon silently followed the other four weyrlings, wondering just what would be expected of him . . . and just how much trouble they'd be in if they were caught; anything involving T'mas usually meant trouble.

Lizbet broke off from their small group and headed towards the candidate barracks. T'mon followed the others into the almost empty weyrling classroom. The only person present inside was D'niel, a brownrider weyrling in the same class as Kristen. He had very short, almost spiky, blond hair and vivid blue eyes, almost hidden behind metal-rimmed lenses. Dressed in short-pants and a sleeveless tunic, it was obvious that weyrling lessons had turned the young man's body into a working machine, though the miniscule clothes might be considered inappropriate to most people, especially since it was a cold early spring Telgar night.

There were chairs surrounding the long, flat Weyrlingmaster's desk at one end of the room, while most of the weyrling desks and remaining chairs were neatly stacked out of the way against the walls. The training mats were rolled and stacked near the back wall of the training room, leaving the entire center of the floor bare and swept clean.

Just as T'mon sat down in front of Weyrlingmaster M'clynn's desk, Lizbet returned from her 'Barracks Raid', as she termed it. T'mon winced when Lizbet and her three companions, C'had and Ivana, a bluerider and the goldrider from T'mon's own class, and Spence, everyone's favorite weyrbrat, were trailed in by a lower caverns girl, Therese.

Therese was a pretty girl with black hair, green eyes, and a perpetually vacant expression. She tended to fancy herself a candidate just because her sister was Gina, another weyrling. The connection was trivial in the eyes of the weyr and her assumptions laughable, but none-the-less Therese felt she was privileged. She wanted candidacy and Impression more for the prestige than for the dragon. And she was stupid, too. Things had to be explained and re-explained to her. She wasn't slow; she was just plain flighty and bubble-headed. More often than not she could even try the legendary, quiet patience of Wingleader H'ratio. The girl was a nuisance and would probably drive T'mas, sitting across from T'mon, to murder.

T'mon shifted uneasily in his chair, looking from Therese to T'mas. He watched as the brunette tried again and again to claim a seat around Weyrlingmaster M'clynn's desk. She was thwarted time and again. Finally the empty-headed girl stamped her foot. "Don't I get a seat?" She covered her mouth in horror, eyes round, as her voice echoed in the near-empty classroom.

Gina, just entering, stopped short at the loud echo. She then looked hesitantly at T'mas, instinctively knowing he'd be very annoyed with the uninvited girl . . . or was she uninvited? T'mon wondered if T'mas had actually asked the girl to join them in the 'recreation' he had planned. The young bronzerider hoped not; it'd be hard to get rid of Gina's sister if she were invited. T'mon watched as Gina nervously slid a hand through her raven hair and sat in a vacant chair, looking to fellow weyrling, D'niel, for the next move.

T'mon looked past Therese and over the other new entrants. C'had, a dish-water blond with brown eyes and an almost too-thin frame seemed to compete with ten turn old Spence for lankiness. Spence showed promise of later height and good looks, but right then his straight brown hair hung over brown eyes in a fashion that made one want to ruffle his soft locks and fetch him a cookie. He squinted most of the time, denoting that he often forgot to use the corrective lenses he'd recently acquired from the healers, despite his vaunted eidetic memory and genius level intelligence. His mother often claimed that he was too smart for the simple things, like taking care of himself. T'mon, another young man people said was a genius, could quite easily sympathize with young Spence; it was often hard to think of the basics with everything else running around in his head.

Both C'had and Spence were out-weighed by the slightly chubby, but very no-nonsense blonde weyrling goldrider, whose blue eyes snapped with intelligence. Though there were no rumors of genius about Ivana, T'mon felt she was the lucky one in that regard, the blonde was one of the cleverest weyrlings in the Weyr.

The last co-conspirator to enter was Jayne, one of the candidates. Her blonde hair was down in waves, removed from its customary practical braids. She grinned as she boldly sat in Weyrlingmaster M'clynn's empty chair, instead of one of the other chairs pulled close to the large desk. "Hey, what's this buzz about mischief?" She had a very unusual accent and an amiable attitude towards everyone, especially considering she'd stood for several Hatchings and been left behind each time.

T'mon shrugged and turned to T'mas, expecting the other young man to answer. Whatever it was would most likely be hard to keep quiet with twelve people involved . . . most of whom T'mon didn't really know. T'mas grinned lazily and pulled out a wooden case he'd hidden under M'clynn's desk not twenty minutes previous to the meeting. Upon opening the plain case an unusual array of items were revealed.

"Mother sent this to me. It's Bitran," he enlightened them while pulling out the items.

There was a wooden board, hinged cleverly in the middle, with many squares engraved on the outer edges of the board. The squares had been painted to represent some of the different Hold, Hall, and Weyr badges of Pern. There were also engraved places in the middle of the board with some badges painted on, as well as two rectangles next to these 'inner' badges. Also among the equipment were thin wooden cards painted with the badges and lettered with tithes and instructions for payments. In the set were two bundles of thin, rectangular wooden cards with directions printed on one side. These bundles came in blue, which had a Vintner Badge engraved on the back, and green, which had a Trader Badge on the back. Hide markers, to replace real marker pieces, were provided in all the denominations from thirty-second to two marker pieces. Small metal discs painted purple and blue to represent whether a piece of property was minor or major were included. Two bone dice with dots on each of their six sides to represent the numbers one through six sat in the box as well. However, among all of these pretty and finely crafted things was the crowning glory: eight figurines carved and intricately painted. Each figurine represented a different life form on Pern: Man, Dolphin, Canine, Wildcat, Runnerbeast, Burdenbeast, Herdbeast, and, naturally, the Dragon. All in all, the set was magnificent.

T'mon looked from the equipment to T'mas and back again. He suddenly had absolutely no clue what he was doing there among all of those people. Fortunately for his curiosity, he also had no compunction about asking, "So, what now? If we're going to get latrine duty for going behind the Weyrlingmaster's back, I'd like to at least know what for."

T'mas started handing out marker pieces. "We're playing a Bitran game in which you buy and occasionally trade Holds, Halls, and Weyrs. The object is to be the last person with marks left, having gotten everyone else to sell off or lose all their property to debt."

Therese looked shocked. "We're buying Pern?"

T'mas grinned maliciously in confirmation.

The lower caverns girl grew even paler. "Oh my! But this is gambling. And I have no marks . . . and the Weyrlingmaster will be angry." No one contested Therese's dire assumptions about the game. Therese continued, panicked, "Excuse me. I need to get marks." The girl left in a hurry, a worried frown on her face, not once looking to her sister for help.

Relief washed over those who knew the lower caverns girl, and they settled around the desk to play the interesting game. T'mas finished handing out marker pieces to everyone then each person rolled the dice to figure out in which order he or she went . . . and therefore the order everybody got to choose their playing piece.

J'soh won the toss and gloated, "All right! I get to be the dragon!" He rolled the dice again and moved this time, landing his dragon figurine on a square marked 'Traders'. At T'mas's signal, the bronzerider picked up one of the green colored cards and he read out loud, ignoring the snickers and giggles.

So absorbed in the card was J'soh that he never realized that Lizbet and Jayne were imitating him in two radically alternate ways. Lizbet was turning her nose up and acting extremely deliberate and pompous. Arrogance reeked from her. Jayne, on the other hand, was bouncing as she imitated his movements. It was the candidate's rendition which delighted the others so much, as it was so accurate compared to J'soh's bouncy bronze Rileth, a habit the Weyrlingmaster staff hoped the bronze would outgrow.

Oblivious, J'soh simply gloated over the card he'd picked. "Impress a Hatchling . . . How appropriate. Give me my marks." He placed the card face up on the board, negligently put the newly acquired marks on top of his disordered stack, and passed the dice to T'mas.

T'mas took his turn, moving his human figurine to the Weaver Hall space. He put the marks to buy the Hall on the board. Lizbet blatantly grabbed the marks and put them in her own pile, grinning and watching to see who would catch her . . . as she did it intending to get caught. She wasn't disappointed. The entire group raised a protest. Gina mumbled something about Lizbet not really cheating since she was now putting the marks in the Bitran Mark Holder, but that still raised a problem.

Finally T'mas shook his head. "We can't just let everyone reach into the mark holder and take what they want." Though T'mon knew his brother was most likely to cheat and sneak extra marks, he listened politely as the other weyrling added, "Someone's going to have to be in charge of it."

After about a minute of discussion . . . or rather everyone saying C'had should do it and C'had protesting . . . it was decided. C'had would be in charge of all marks going in or coming out of the holder. He glared at the group. "Like I wanna do that?"

J'soh laughed. "C'had's a Bitran. C'had's a Bitran. Hey, that sounds like a rhythm."

Lizbet grinned and cracked "J'soh's a harper? I thought he was a dragon."

Ivana finally spoke up. "Since I'm not playing, I'll be mark-holder. Then no one can be accused of cheating." Her accent marked her as Telgar Weyr bred, and that, along with the fact that her older brothers were clutchmates of Weyrlingmaster M'clynn's, commanded a respect beyond even the status of her gold dragonet. No one argued and the pretty, chubby-faced blonde pulled the container of marks to a spot directly in front of her seat.

Young Spence spoke up, pointing out other potential problems to be solved. "Then someone should also be in charge of the property cards and someone needs keep track of how much people are paying for tithes and how many dice rolls and . . ."

Cutting him off, T'mas put a hand over the boy's mouth. "Good. C'had's not playing; he can be in charge of property." He passed the stack of wooden cards to his bluerider clutchmate. "And since you're so brilliant, you keep track of everything else, Squirt."

With a surprised look in his eyes, Spence quietly nodded as he settled back against J'soh's chair, watching carefully now he was in charge of keeping track of things. He actually seemed to understand the game most of the group had never seen before.

T'mon shook his head, a slight smile on his face. "Okay, whose turn is it? I still haven't gotten a piece."

"You probably never will, being a weyrling and all." T'mas grinned at his twin amid groans from the older weyrlings.

Lizbet took the dice and looked over the pieces left. "I think I'll be the ever loyal Canine."

T'mas raised one eyebrow at his disfigured cousin and snorted, "Because you're as ugly as a watchwher?"

Everyone laughed, not realizing it was most likely a real insult and not playful banter, and Lizbet simply smiled in her easy-going manner, letting the dice roll across the beautifully engraved board. She had double fives which landed her canine on the Island Archipelago space. "Hey, I want to own those Islands. How much?"

T'mas shook his head. "You're not allowed to own them. That's there in case you break the charter-given laws. If you land there, you can keep going. But if you get sent there, you have to pay a tithe to get out. About those doubles you rolled, however . . . you're allowed to go again. Every time you roll doubles, you move to where it says to move and then you get to go again. If you get three sets, though, after you finish your third move, you go straight to the islands and have to pay to leave. Naturally, since you'd gotten doubles, you get to roll again. If you roll doubles while in the Islands, you can get off them for free, and roll again to move." T'mas grinned, taking a deep breath and watching the puzzled looks grow deeper on the faces surrounding M'clynn's desk. "And, if you roll another three doubles, it's back to the Islands you go."

"So, effectively, one person could get a turn for hours on end until everyone else quits in utter boredom?" The eager question was D'niel's.

"Yup," T'mas's grin widened.

Jayne shook her head. "Don't even dream it, D'niel. No one's lucky enough to get doubles repeatedly for hours on end . . . maybe four or five in a row, but not for hours on end."

"Depends," interjected Lizbet, "if he rolled real slow, it might take hours." She suited actions to words, and took about two minutes to roll her second turn. This time, her canine landed on Igen Hold, which she bought while the doubles argument continued.

"But then we'd bash his head in, Messerth or no." T'mas ended the discussion with a wicked smile. Everyone laughed again, though secretly T'mon thought his twin might actually mean it.

The dice were passed to D'niel. He chose the Feline piece, and Lizbet eyed his lithe form appreciatively, apparently mentally comparing him to the wildcat he'd chosen. D'niel rolled; the feline piece wound up gracing the Weaver spot.

Before D'niel could pay T'mas his expected sixteenth and thirty-second marks, the bronzerider weyrling gloated and explained that you had to pay double tithe if the owner was in residence. T'mon picked up the dice as a light argument broke out.

J'soh shook his head. "Are you sure you're not just making that up on the spot to get a bigger tithe?"

Lizbet laughed and teased D'niel, "I think you like paying out . . ."

"If you don't shut your mouth, I'll hit you, J'soh."

Everyone looked surprised at the grumpy-sounding brownrider. Gina hesitantly mentioned, "But J'soh didn't say it, D'niel. Lizbet did."

D'niel shrugged. "I don't care; I'll still hit J'soh. If I hit Lizbet, I'd upset Spence, and no one wants to do that."

Spence laughed, and that broke the suddenly building tension in the air. Lizbet decided to keep the tension low by taking the dice from T'mon. She deliberately leaned close to him, something most people didn't dare.

"I think I'd like it if your hands were on me, Tim. After all, they must know a lot of things J'soh and D'niel can only dream of."

T'mon flushed at his cousin's innuendo, but smiled, and the group laughed, relaxing once more in the low-lit classroom.

T'mon confiscated the dice once more and rolled them. As soon as he started moving his choice piece, a herdbeast figurine, D'niel started mooing low and long. Everyone laughed, and Gina poked D'niel, grinning shyly. Nobody commented when T'mon's figure landed on the unoccupied High Reaches Weyr, and he paid Ivana the two marker she requested for it. He slid the engraved wooden card in front of his mark pile.

Kristen reached out and rolled the dice. She looked over the remaining three pieces and chose the Runnerbeast. A faint smiled played across J'soh's lips as Kristen landed the runner on T'mon's High Reaches Weyr. When Kristen asked how much she had to tithe, T'mas spoke up.

"You have to pay the first tithe. When each subsequent Weyr is acquired, no matter who acquires it, the next tithe listed will be what's paid. So, if three of the Weyrs are run by someone, the third tithe is what's paid. The idea is as more land is acquired, there's more space for dragons to protect. Naturally, by laws of probability, the Weyrs will be acquired at about the same rate of the growth of Pern. So, thus a bigger tithe as more is owned. See?"

Everyone shook their heads in confusion, but T'mon simply laughed. "So, since I'm the only one with a Weyr right now, Kristen owes me the first tithe on the list?"

T'mas nodded, frowning at his twin, though the expression quickly flitted back to his normal grin. T'mon continued. "And by your double tithe rule, since my Weyrleader's in residence, she owes me double tithe. So, one half mark and one eighth mark, please, Kristen."

"What do you mean your Weyrleader? That's a fardling herdbeast! Herdbeasts can't be Weyrleaders." Lizbet crossed her arms in feigned indignation.

D'niel mooed again.

T'mon raised his hand to forestall further protestations. "My Weyrleader has the herdbeast there to feed his great bronze, Speedeth. So, who's after Kristen? Gina? Here are the dice."

Gina nodded hesitantly and rolled the bone squares as marks exchanged hands.

D'niel laughed as Gina's dolphin figurine ended up on the Fishercraft Hall. "What, hungry are you? Geeee-naaaaa eeeeeat."

Everyone laughed and Gina blushed, ducking her head and mumbling. When D'niel leaned closer, Gina grew redder. "Yes," she spoke louder, "My dolphin got hungry so we want to acquire the Fisher Hall so we are always supplied."

Lizbet shook her head. "That place probably smells, Gina. Your dolphin won't want to eat there for long."

Jayne grinned, rolling the dice. "Well, it can't smell any worse than you, than, can it, Lizbet?" Before anyone could respond to her quip, she squealed. "I landed on the Trader space. My card says . . ." and here she drew one of the green wooden cards and read it out loud, carefully. "Catch a dolphin to the Dolphineer Hall. If you pass Benden Weyr, collect a two marker. Whoa . . . this must be an old game, T'mas. Benden's a volcano, not a Weyr!"

T'mon shook his head, moving Jayne's Burdenbeast piece for her. It hadn't been her choice piece, but it had been the only one remaining when she finally got to go. When T'mon took his hand away, D'niel grinned at the candidate.

"So, you're buying Gina's home right from under her as she's dallying at the Fisher Hall." The voice belonged to a very amused Lizbet.

Jayne nodded, gloating noticeably. "Yes, and there's nothing you dimglows can do about it, is there?" She deliberately turned to D'niel as she said this.

"Nope," agreed D'niel. "Should there be a purpose behind any effort to get Gina's home from you? I thought she'd want it . . ."

T'mon shook his head. "Why don't you tell me what your real home is like, Gina? Surely you weren't born at the Dolphinhall for real, were you?"

Gina's head shot up and she looked hesitantly around at the small gathering. "Uh, I was born and raised in Bitra Hold. I didn't know any other life before Cipriottith. What . . ." she gulped, but made herself push away the natural shyness to ask, "What was your life like before Impression?"

The bronzerider's back stiffened and he forced himself to visibly relax, not wanting to make Gina think she had done something wrong. The girl was wary enough. Leaning back in his chair, he seemed to be deliberately thinking over the question. "Hmm . . . before Impression?" He refused to meet his twin's eyes or acknowledge the malicious grin on the other young man's face.

A sleepy voice came to him from the darkness, and it was a moment before T'mon realized he was the only one hearing it. _"There is no 'before Impression.' Before Impression is dark, cold, hunger with no love and no friends. Before Impression there is only the shell surrounding you, and then you are suddenly free and alive and full of love and laughter, because you have found your one true mate."_

T'mon never was able to figure out which dragon had spoken to him, but it sounded so exactly right that he couldn't help a wistful smile. The others were watching him intently, and he heard, as if from a distance, one of the males say, "I recognize that look. His dragon must be awake."

Shaking his head, T'mon looked at the group. "No, Speedeth is still sleeping. Someone else was talking to me." Then he went still, realizing his slip as wonder dawned on the faces of his new friends and anger crossed his twin's.

The candidate looked especially surprised and curious . . . and strangely eager, too. Jayne broke the ensuing silence by leaning forward and putting a hand over one of T'mon's. "Who spoke to you? I've rarely heard of dragons speaking to anyone but their own riders, except in an emergency of course."

T'mon tried to make light of the situation, feeling almost as bewildered and scared as that first day he'd heard a dragon. He had to ruthlessly repress the fear that had been bred into him from his past. Shrugging, he straightened in his chair and pulled his hand from Jayne's. "I've always heard dragons. They like to talk to me sometimes. Other times, I just overhear them without meaning to."

"Prove it."

Everyone turned to J'soh, surprised by his laughing words. "Prove it, T'mon. What's Rileth thinking right now?"

T'mon hated to show off unless it got him something worthwhile, but he didn't want these people thinking he was an idle braggart, either. So, he gently reached out to touch the normally bouncy bronze's mind. Shaking his head, he pulled back just as gently. "Rileth's asleep."

J'soh blinked, looking somehow uncomfortable, then suddenly grinned wide and laughed. "That he is. Wow, you _can_ hear dragons. I've heard rumors of people like you, but never thought they really existed."

Tilting his head, T'mon looked at J'soh with a puzzled frown. "What's so special about me? I can hear dragons. Big deal, so can Wingleader H'ratio." He ignored the surprise that crossed the others' faces at that heretofore little known tidbit. "It helps for knowing the weather or when a big gather's happening. It'd be different if, say, Thread was falling. Then it'd be a valuable skill."

A shudder went through everyone at T'mon's casual reference to the dragonriders' long standing enemy. Gina went noticeably paler, and Lizbet chewed her lower lip in worry. Spence was the only one who seemed eager to discuss the deadly phenomena.

"Do you really think Thread will come back? I mean, the records and the Weyrs all say so. The signs are getting closer. Maybe in a few turns time, some say. Most of them say it's just an old threat, no longer viable. But, do you really think Thread will fall again, T'mon? Is that why two bronzeriders can now hear all the dragons?"

T'mon reached out a hand to grip Spence's left shoulder. "Yes." Even he was surprised by the vehemence of his own reply. "Yes, I know Thread will come back, Spence. It's why we have dragons. Maybe that's why I can hear them and why I'm a bronzerider. Maybe not. Maybe there are even more than Wingleader H'ratio and I that can hear them. But I know one thing's for sure: I've could never imagine any better place or purpose for my skills than with a Weyr. Thread must fall again, and we," he slapped his hand onto the wooden desktop so hard, everyone jumped, "will be the ones to destroy it."

J'soh nodded, enthusiastically. "Can you hear the dragons, too, T'mas? You're twins with T'mon, right?"

Fearing the anger that suddenly crossed his twin's face, T'mon jumped to answer their fellow clutchmate. "No, he's lucky. Do you realize how hard it is to keep them quiet? The many voices and feelings are overwhelming, J'soh. Sometimes," he figured the small lie would go far to smooth T'mas's hurt feelings, "I envy T'mas for the blessing of not having to hear every babbling tale and feel every death." It seemed no one thought hearing all the dragons was such a great skill any more.

"But with Thread's return . . ." J'soh pushed.

"Yes," T'mon nodded. "And there will be many more, horrible deaths than now, won't there? But the dragons will once again do what they were meant to do: protect Pern!" He let his voice ring in conviction, easing T'mas and instilling pride in the so recently worried weyrlings.

Spence sighed, smiling. "That's great. Lizbet, you'll be careful, right?" The ten turn old turned to his older foster-sister, suddenly all concerned for the only person to spend time with a _'know-it-all'_ weyrbrat while his greenrider mother worried about her own problems.

Lizbet grinned and nodded nonchalantly. "Sure will." The teenager grabbed the dice, passing them to J'soh. "Who'd take care of you if I got scored?" Lizbet was gratified to hear a murmuring echo go round the table, offering to help with Spence if ever needed.

No one noticed the cold, calculating look in T'mas's eyes as he resentfully watched his twin getting all the attention, again. Life had always been like that; T'mon knew T'mas often felt overshadowed by his smarter, younger twin . . . and the older boy despised it. A calming voice broke over the pair, and soothingly said, _"I think you are the best rider, my T'mas."_ A smile crossed the young man's face, and it was apparent that he didn't care if T'mon had heard Spedellith, either. T'mon knew T'mas felt his wonderful bronze was much smarter and better than Speedeth.

J'soh suddenly let out a hoot and started cheering, bouncing in his seat as much as his dragon might do in class. The somber mood was broken by these antics, and everyone turned to the bronzerider. Satisfied he'd gotten their complete attention, he let the dice roll across the table until they nearly fell off the other side. Eyes rolled, but no one complained about his need to show off.

"Hmmm . . . a three? That puts me on the Island Archipelago. Hey, Lizbet, what's the tithe on your islands?"

D'niel shook his head. "No tithe. She wasn't allowed to buy them and neither are you."

Lizbet crossed her arms, slumped in her chair, and let out a snort of feigned disgust. J'soh grinned wider, poking Lizbet in glee. T'mas held out his hand towards T'mon for the dice, his face once more calm and smiling. He rolled and moved his human figurine.

The arrogant, recently Impressed bronzerider grinned as he started handing over marks to Gina. "I believe you have acquired the Fisher Hall to feed your dolphin, who is in residence. So, here is double."

Shaking his head, D'niel laughed. "T'mas, better not tithe her so much. Her little dolphin will grow too fat to swim."

Comments started flying around the table from the rest of the group, mostly aimed at D'niel. T'mon, however, simply leaned back in his chair. He was deliberately staying quiet, watching to see how things developed. Somehow, the bronzerider was fairly certain that Gina liked D'niel, and he was hoping to figure out whether D'niel liked the shy greenrider in return.

Finally, they settled down enough for Lizbet to move her piece. Landing on Nerat Hold, Lizbet yelped. "I'm gonna own a tropical cothold."

D'niel, meanwhile, had started barking as soon as Lizbet touched her canine figure.

Shaking his head, T'mon clamped a hand over D'niel's mouth. "Hush, fool, let her speak." Snatching his hand back as if burned, T'mon stared at his now glistening wet palm. Had the brownrider just licked him? He repressed a shudder and shook his hand, then wiped it across his trousers. "D'niel, wildcats don't lick. You should have been the canine."

"Knock it off!" C'had snatched the dice, sounding annoyed.

D'niel and Kristen didn't even glance at each other as the clutchmate brownriders chimed, "Who should we knock off, C'had?" before D'niel took the dice from the younger bluerider.

"Maybe we could knock up . . . er . . . off Therese." T'mas grinned as if trying to lighten the situation.

Gina laughed as much as the others, but it was low and shy. Looking towards the door, the young greenrider tilted her head. In a small voice, she asked, "I wonder what could have happened to her, anyway."

It seemed everyone, including T'mon, was in agreement that as long as the stupid brunette left them alone, they didn't care what had happened to her. D'niel triumphantly slipped some marks into Ivana's hand and snatched the Southern Boll card from C'had.

"T'mon."

"Huh?"

"Huh, hell, pay attention. It's your turn, bronze boy." Kristen picked up and passed him the dice.

T'mon grinned, leaning forward as he whispered huskily, "Not a boy . . . far from it."

J'soh sounded shocked. "Not a boy? Shells, you're a girl!"

Everyone, including T'mon, laughed at that comment. The dark-haired teenager rolled the bone squares and reached for his herdbeast. Amid mooing noises from D'niel and hoots from J'soh, T'mon landed on Southern Boll.

J'soh grinned. "Hey, Dan, why are you letting that bronze herdbeast follow you around? Are you proddy?"

"Bronze herdbeast . . ." Lizbet repeated with a laugh, watching a grin cross T'mas's face.

T'mon sighed. This was a little annoying with the childish antics of J'soh and D'niel, even though J'soh was at least a little less annoying. Deciding to play along, however, he smiled at J'soh. "Your dragon doesn't have to be proddy for you to be followed."

A hesitant, "Not a dragon . . . a wildcat," was heard from Gina. Everyone laughed, and the shy weyrling smiled in gratitude.

T'mon handed the dice to Kristen, who was still chuckling over Gina's unexpected joke. Before T'mon could relax back into his lounging position, ten turn old Spence shook his head.

"You didn't pay D'niel his tithe, T'mon."

Catcalls started coming from all angles and T'mon shrugged. He counted out a double-tithe, seeing as D'niel's wildcat was sitting right there next to his herdbeast. D'niel merely smiled in a pleased way at the far newer rider. The smile was echoed by Kristen and T'mon felt a sexual jolt go through him. Reminding himself that he'd only recently Impressed, and that Kristen would be graduating within two or three months, T'mon looked away.

Kristen moved her Runnerbeast to the Fisher Hall.

"Kristen is intent on being out of the game quickest by losing all her marks," Lizbet shook her head. "She's just so nice; she's paying double every time."

D'niel laughed and turned to Kristen. "So, trying to lose, are you?"

Kristen shook her head with a grin then passed the dice to Gina. "No, Dan. Just biding my time till you run out of marks. Then, I'll buy your holds and halls real cheap."

Gina rolled the dice and appeared to actually be concentrating rather hard on what she was doing. She never seemed to notice the fond look D'niel threw her way, or the speculative looks from T'mon and Kristen. "I've landed on Nerat with Lizbet in residence. How much do I tithe?"

Lizbet laughed. "Double since I'm there . . . that's . . . twice tithe of an eighth, a sixteenth, and a thirty-second." Doing some quick figuring, Lizbet nodded. "You tithe a fourth, an eighth, and a sixteenth. And it's about time you started paying up, you fat little dolphin." She grinned wide at the light blush on the greenrider's cheeks.

Gina seemed suddenly to relax, though, despite the insulting sounding jibe. She was apparently finally really feeling like part of the group since they were comfortable enough to tease her. The brunette weyrling held out the dice to Jayne, risking a glance towards D'niel.

D'niel was laughing with the others, letting his eyes roam over Gina. "She's not fat yet, Lizbet. But if she keeps letting that dolphin feed so heavily at her Fishercraft, she will be." The smile D'niel bestowed on Gina was fondly happy.

Gina blushed again.

The candidate bounced in her seat, distracting the pair and breaking them out of their almost embarrassing looks. She rolled a four and a five then moved her burdenbeast, deliberately imitating a slow plodding movement. Grinning up at the others, Jayne drew a blue _"Vintner Hall: Make A Deal"_ card.

"Threadfall Damages. Pay tithes. One fourth, one eight, one sixteenth, and one thirty-second mark for each minor property damaged or one full, one eighth, and one sixteenth mark for each major property." She looked up with a frown, her blonde tresses swinging in front of her eyes. Almost impatiently, she tossed her head to clear her vision.

The movement sent a jolt through T'mon, and he had to suppress a groan. Carefully he checked to make sure Speedeth was still asleep. It wouldn't do for his dragonet to suddenly wake and wonder at the confusing sexual feelings running through his rider. They'd had that class before Impression . . . about not letting anything sexual confuse their hatchlings. Suddenly, the next twelve months didn't seem as easy as it had before that beautiful bronze claimed him on the sands sixth months ago. Deliberately, T'mon looked away from the candidate, but forced himself to concentrate on her words.

She sounded confused. "Minor and major? Aren't they all major properties? I mean, they're the Weyrs and Holds and Halls, right? Or do I simply say that Thread didn't hit my areas? That'd mean I wouldn't have to pay for damages."

Gina looked just as confused. "But the Dolphineer Hall is a major crafthall, isn't it?"

Everyone turned to T'mas for the answer, since it was his game. He shook his head. "Right now whenever you acquire a property you have either a branch hall or a cothold, as Lizbet called Nerat. The Weyrs and Southern Hold don't count, because the crafter decided that anything with tan or grey shading wasn't allowed to get any bigger . . ."

"Get bigger? What do you mean get bigger?" D'niel leaned forward, and this time there was nothing sexual or comical about his remark. He was just as befuddled as everyone else.

T'mas laughed. "If you're able to get all the areas that have the same shade card, you can start making them bigger. In other words, you can put Minor Hold or Minor Halls on your area. If you acquire enough Minors, you can trade them in for a Major Hold or Hall. You get bigger tithes for bigger properties. But you have to own all of the cards of the same shade."

"So how come Southern Hold doesn't count?" J'soh wanted to know. It was actually common knowledge that he'd been Searched from Islinne Hold, formerly known as Southern Hold, to Impress bronze Rileth.

T'mas shrugged. "Apparently the man who crafter the game either didn't want to get too involved with the southern continent, or he was just plain warped. Notice that except for Southern Weyr and Southern Hold, there are only Northern places in this game? That's probably why. So, he bunched both southern areas together and gave them a special rule for gathering tithes. Then he bunched four of the other Weyrs together with a different special rule. And lastly, he decided Benden and Ista Weyrs couldn't be bought, but you'd be allowed to get or give tithes for them, anyway. But, why don't we cover those special rules when we come to them?"

T'mon shook his head. "So, I'll never get to improve High Reaches Weyr?"

"As if anything could improve that place," D'niel said with a snort.

Again, T'mas shrugged. "I didn't craft the game. I only play it."

Gina sighed, apparently feeling stupid about not figuring the rules out yet when everyone else seemed to be getting it. After all, Jayne was even nodding as if it were the simplest thing in the world. T'mon took pity on the younger rider. "So, I'll never get to add to High Reaches Weyr. But Gina, for instance, will get to make the Fisher Hall a Minor Hall then a Major Hall, with a bigger tithe, right?"

D'niel nodded. "Sounds fair. But she'll have to get Tillek Hold and Igen Hold first. They're all that magenta color."

"Wanna swap?" T'mon was half-joking when he asked Gina.

T'mas shook his head vehemently. "No swapping until all of the cards are acquired. Then, you can swap or sell or buy or whatever it takes."

Spence smiled and turned to T'mon. "I'll remember for you which property you want to swap."

Everyone laughed, including T'mon, as it was well known even among the newest weyrlings that Spence was an eidetic. Lizbet couldn't stop bragging about her foster brother's skills. J'soh went as far as to slip a hand over Spence's left hand.

Spence grinned then turned to T'mas. "Maybe the crafter didn't understand that Weyrs could expand, too. After all, you can have a Wing, then a Flight, then a Weyr, right?"

Suitably impressed, T'mon nodded. "Maybe once we get the hang of this game we could alter the rules a little. We could give us poor weyrfolk a little lift."

J'soh shook his head. "Not possible. After all, T'mon, look at your tithes compared to ours. You're getting a good amount of marks, and we're getting piddly. We'll get more later, but you'll make the marks now that'll put us out of trade."

T'mon grinned as everyone laughed, and J'soh grabbed the dice. He then made a big show of shaking them . . . which lasted for over a minute. Once he reached two minutes and hadn't stopped shaking them, the others started getting restless. T'mon's hand shot out, enclosing J'soh's and stopping his movement. The bronzerider then pried open J'soh's hand, plucked out the dice, and tossed them onto the table.

"You have a five and a two; that's seven, J'soh. Go."

J'soh pouted but moved his dragon until he landed on the space marked "Vintner: Make A Deal." Nodding, he leaned back in his chair and grinned. "I'm just plain good."

T'mon grinned, and everyone else laughed. Gina shyly smiled as she handed a blue card over to J'soh. D'niel wiggled his eyebrows as her as J'soh started reading.

"'A dragon flies you off the Island Archipelago. Save until used.' Hey, that's cool!" He propped the card up so everyone could read it.

Lizbet and D'niel made snide remarks, but it didn't stop T'mas from taking his turn and landing on the Tannercraft space.

"Yup, I think I'll buy that." He proceeded to pay a full mark, a half mark, a fourth mark, and an eighth mark to D'niel.

J'soh shook his head, the movement generating enough wind to knock down his card. As he attempted to prop it back up again, he commented, "Your tannery can probably beat Gina's fishery for smell." It seemed his luck was turning. The card would not stay up. With a shrug, he added it to his disordered stack of marks and cards.

Lizbet was unobserved as she bought Telgar Weyr after rolling double threes. She rolled again before anyone registered what she was doing. Picking up a blue _Vintner: Make A Deal card_ , the greenrider attracted attention by reading in a clear voice. "Bitran makes an error. You benefit. Collect a two mark." She grinned at Ivana and wagged her eyebrows.

J'soh started teasing Ivana about just handing out marks to Lizbet, calling her proddy. She sniffed and snubbed him. Lizbet just grinned. T'mon was slightly surprised, but didn't let it show, when Ivana turned and offered the two mark to him, instead of Lizbet.

Gina shook her head. "Uh, the marker is Lizbet's, not T'mon's . . ."

"Well, if I'm proddy, I'd certainly rather let T'mon win the flight. After all, he's got a bronze, and Lizbet has a green." Ivana deliberately avoided looking at the disfigured weyrling.

Lizbet seemed un-offended as she snatched the two marker. "Sorry, 'Vana, but I won the flight . . . Say, your gold won't be rising soon; you're nowhere near graduating . . ."

The young woman glared at Lizbet then slowly smiled. "As if I'd give these dimglows any hints. Where're the dice?" She handed them over to D'niel and watched as he rolled, moved to Igen Weyr, and paid for the card. "Oh, only Fort Weyr remains in that shade group," she commented, letting the flight subject drop.

Gina shook her head. "I still don't see why they couldn't put Southern Weyr in with the rest of the Weyrs." When T'mas pointed out the Southern Continent relationship again, the greenrider simply nodded silently.

Suddenly, J'soh lunged around the table and grabbed their younger friend. Capturing the ten turn old boy's head under his arm, he proceeded to rub the brunette's hair with two knuckles. Everyone couldn't help laughing at the unexpected action, including a fiercely struggling Spence.

T'mon smiled, pleased with the banter. Trying to move the game along, aware of the lateness of the time, he rolled the dice. He reached to move his piece.

"Mooooooooo . . ."

T'mon was starting to get irritated with D'niel about that mooing. It had been cute the first time, but it was getting old pretty quick. He didn't normally mind teasing, but T'mon had a more refined taste than D'niel's derogatory remarks and stupid pranks. He couldn't understand just what Gina saw in the brownrider. Instead of letting his irritation show, however, the bronzerider simply sighed and paid double tithe for the Tannercraft. D'niel laughed at T'mon's expression, making T'mon realize he hadn't been able to mask his emotions as well as he'd wanted to.

Toying with the problem of dealing with D'niel's odd sense of humor, T'mon absently passed the dice along to Kristen. He watched J'soh lean back in his chair and make a comment about D'niel's neatly piled marks. Finally, T'mon let himself reach out and check on Messerth.

The dragon was still sleeping. Without any sign to anyone of what he was doing, T'mon reached out to each of the other dragons, finding J'soh's bronze, Kristen's brown, and Lizbet's green asleep. He was rather surprised, then, to find Gina's green wide awake and in a shyly talkative mood.

_"Hello. I'm T'mon. Speedeth's rider."_

_"I know. Is Gina happy in the teaching room? She sounds happy, but she feels confused."_

T'mon looked over at the shy weyrling, smiling when Gina looked straight at him with an odd look on her face. _"She seems happy. She likes D'niel."_

_"Gina wants to know why you talk to me without letting her know. Is there a problem?"_ The green dragon sounded worried.

Forcing himself to lounge back in his chair as Kristen rolled the dice and moved to Nerat, T'mon smiled lazily at Gina. _"Let her know I was just checking on the dragons. I wanted to make sure my new friends were okay."_

He listened as she told her rider T'mon's message. Gina suddenly smiled, looking actually thankful. T'mon was even more confused as to how the gentle young woman could be so attracted to the annoying and boisterous D'niel. He didn't, however, ask the dragon. She was not yet graduated and may not understand the questions or implications. Instead, he smiled once more at Gina and turned his attention to Lizbet, who seemed upset about something.

"I can't believe it. Only normal tithe. Kristen, how come you refuse to pay me double tithe? You've paid everyone else double." Lizbet's laughter reassured T'mon as to her good humor.

With a saucy grin, Kristen responded, "I'd pay you double if you wouldn't simply go somewhere, buy without looking, then run off and leave your cotholders and branch crafters to fend for themselves. This cot is poorly run. As such, it doesn't even deserve the high tithe you've requested, let alone double. And if you were in residence, I'd tell your canine that to her bushy little face."

Lizbet slapped her friend on the shoulder, laughing heartily. "That's told me, little weyrling."

Gina smiled at the affectionate display and moved to Telgar Weyr. She asked about the tithe as Lizbet laughed.

"Another of my poorly run places. But, naturally, the Weyr demands a higher tithe. So, you'll need to pay me . . . let's see. Three Weyrs are opened? Then you owe me a full mark."

"That's outrageous for these inferior accommodations!" Gina seemed indignant, but she was smiling, none-the-less. She suddenly grinned sheepishly at her own boldness when everyone stared at her in shock.

D'niel changed the paths of everyone's thoughts by demanding snacks.

Jayne laughed. "You should have thought of your stomach before you left the dining cavern tonight. After all, not everyone has the belly of a newborn dragonet." Amid laugher and jibes, she rolled double twos.

"Ruatha Hold!" Jayne shrieked in surprise, then coughed and looked stunned. "Look at the price! They want three and a half marks for a place earthshakes turned into a gorge!"

Lizbet and D'niel started razzing her as T'mas and Gina hissed. T'mon started laughing. J'soh leaned closer to Spence, and together the unlikely pair started making 'tutting' noises. Suddenly T'mas held up his hands. "Pity Party! One, two, three . . ." Everyone together suddenly simpered, "Awwww . . ." Softly, Lizbet started chanting in a sing-song manner, "Every party needs a pooper, that's why we invited you. Party pooper."

Jayne sassed back, "Well, apparently for a party pooper, I'm the only acceptable Lady to run Ruatha. So, eat that." She stuck out her tongue, ignoring J'soh's catcall about anyone being able to run a gorge, then rolled again. Surprised, she moved her Burdenbeast three squares to the space marked Benden Weyr. "Well, two marks, please."

"Nope, four marks."

Everyone paused and looked at T'mas.

"Another new rule?" asked Lizbet.

T'mas nodded. "Yup, if you pass Benden Weyr or are sent there, you get the normal two marker. But if you can actually land there by an exact roll, you get four marks. It's called the _'Fancy Flying'_ rule."

"Hey, I just realized that someone left five marks in the middle of the board. Can I claim them since we can't possibly figure out who's they are?" J'soh looked eager, reaching for the three markers.

T'mas slapped his hand away. "Nope. Those are supposed to be there. They're the tithes for Ista Weyr. If you're told to pay Threadfall Duties or anything else by a card or if you have to pay Thread Tithes or Hatching fees from the board, the marks go in the center of the board. Anyone landing on Ista Weyr gets the tithe from the center of the board. If someone gets the tithe, the Bitran replaces the original five marks from the mark holder. It's kind of a little bonus, since no one can own Ista Weyr. Call it self-sufficient."

Everyone looked covetously at the marks sitting innocently in the center of the board. Even T'mon couldn't help hoping he'd land on Ista Weyr. It'd be kind of nice to stockpile a few marks in the hopes he'd acquire areas that could be made bigger later. J'soh grabbed the dice, keeping his eyes on the Ista tithe the entire time. Lizbet had to poke him when he didn't move his allotted double two.

"Farmcraft. You must be hunting Rileth." Gina smiled a little more boldly at J'soh.

The bronzerider nodded, laughing. "Yeah, I'm trying to find a nice, fat T'mon to feed my dragon. Moooo."

T'mon rolled his eyes but joined in the general laughter. "I'd give him a tummy ache, and the entire Weyr'd get angry at you for feeding Rileth bad herdbeast."

J'soh grinned and rolled again, coming up with an eleven in total. "Fort Hold? Why would I want to go there? It's cold up there."

"It's cold up here, Dimglow. We're in Telgar," T'mas shot back.

"The game must've been crafted by a dragonrider," mentioned Spence.

Jayne puzzled over that one then tilted her head. "Why, Spence?"

"'Cause it's got all the old northern Weyrs on it. Half of them don't exist anymore. Benden's been gone for turns. It's now a volcano. Telgar, Islinne, and Ista are still here, but Fort, Igen, and High Reaches shut down ages ago."

"Yeah, it's got to be a really old game, too," pointed out Gina, "Because it has _Southern_ instead of _Islinne_."

That made everyone pause in thought.

T'mon looked towards the doorway, thinking about Gina's words. He wondered what was going on down south right then. It'd been a few turns since he'd come back north. He wondered if he'd ever get back down south again then almost laughed out loud. With Speedeth, anything was possible. He's be able to between up there in a couple of turns . . . no more rickety caravans.

J'soh, unaware of interrupting T'mon's reminisces, shrugged off the thoughtful air and handed over the dice to T'mas, saying "Man, my dragon's getting impatient. Go."

Jayne bounced exaggeratedly, and everyone laughed. T'mon joined in, shaking off the mood with difficulty. He'd done more soul-searching that night than in all his time at the Weyr. That did not make him in the least bit comfortable.

T'mas rolled a one and three, landing on Ista Weyr. Everyone groaned as the bronzerider took up those tantalizing five marks from the board's center. Lizbet indignantly claimed that he was cheating.

As if that was the wineskin stopper being pulled, everything started happening at once. Almost everyone, except T'mon, started shouting at each other in a good natured, but loud, sort of way. Accusations about cheating and T'mas's many odd rules flew about. Spence backed up from the table, smiling slightly. Gina hunched over, covering her ears, eyes wide in shock.

T'mon, however, simply got up and strode to the classroom door. He opened his mind to see if they were being monitored by any of the dragons. Keeping a silent vigil, the bronzerider was determined to warn his group if they were being approached. He saw no one, thankfully.

Noticing T'mon's furtive watch, D'niel started to shush everyone. "We're using the Weyrling Classroom, guys. Be quiet. You want latrines for breaking curfew?"

T'mas handed Lizbet the dice, nodding silently. As the greenrider rolled, T'mon slipped into his seat. D'niel laughed softly, mooing and referring to T'mon as their 'guard beast.' A general laugh ensued, followed quickly by D'niel teasing Lizbet about T'mon's taking her canine's job away. Lizbet grinned.

"Let him. I've got a six."

She moved her piece, not really paying attention until she stopped. Then she gasped. Getting up, Lizbet started to dance around the table, every once in a while leaning down to gloat at Jayne. "I got the Harpers! I got the Harpers!"

The candidate frowned, crossing her arms, and slumped in the Weyrlingmaster's chair. "Not fair! She cheats. I swear! I deserve the Harpers. I earned them! And I've got Ruatha. They're the same shade of Harper Blue. They go together."

T'mas nodded and pointed out, maliciously, "They're the only two cards of that shade, too." He ignored Lizbet as the scarred weyrling continued to dance and chant.

Before anyone knew what was happening, a shadow fell across the doorway. They turned suddenly, T'mon knowing an instant before the others, by the sound of the dragons, just who was there. Lizbet stopped dancing with one foot still in the air, bent almost double.

Standing there was the Weyrlingmaster, M'clynn, frowning, with Therese peeping out from behind, tears in her eyes. Everyone froze, staring in guilty surprise at the man. He simply crossed his arms, and watched them with a deeply disapproving frown, his blue eyes snapping fire.

Finally, Spence glanced across the board and over everyone's neatly arranged marks . . . and J'soh's mess . . . then slowly started picking up the pieces. T'mas and the others started picking it up without a word. They put the game away in the box, straightened the chairs to either side of the room, and left . . . but not before the M'clynn confiscated T'mas's game. Every single one of them glared at Therese on their way out, including her normally shy sister, Gina.

The girl gulped and ran after the candidate, Jayne, to explain herself. "I needed marks to play, right? So, I went to mother. She went to M'clynn 'cause she said gambling was off limits to weyrlings and candidates. I didn't know; honest!" Her voice continued, even as she entered the darkened candidate barracks after Jayne.

The weyrlings went off to their own barracks or weyrs, letting Spence find his own way back to the lower caverns berthing.

T'mon sank into bed, stroking his six month old bronze dragon, and smiled, sure the Weyrlingmaster hadn't really been angry but was making an example for the candidate and the newly Impressed. He felt sure that since they'd been given the time off to rest and relax, M'clynn was going to let it go. Maybe T'mas would manage to get his game back, too.

T'mon was wrong.

They'd wound up with a month of latrines. None of the weyrlings were permitted to talk out loud for the entire time they were on latrines. Jayne nearly lost her candidacy. That was a night they'd remember for a long time to come, for the game, the punishment, and the revelations to themselves, if not their fellow conspirators.

T'mon, at least, would never forget.


End file.
